


In Memoriam

by Glaurung_II



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Protecting what's dear to you, Regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaurung_II/pseuds/Glaurung_II
Summary: Libertus still has to come to terms with the loss of his two best friends, and now he fears history repeating itself. What would be best? Overprotecting your dear ones, or teaching them to fight?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Lost in Wars - A FFXV World of Ruin Zine





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my piece for the Lost In Wars Zine from 2020. It was an honor to work with such wonderful people, and a treat to be able to write about Libertus, who had to pick the pieces after both Nyx and Crowe were gone.
> 
> I hope you like it!

The artificial light made him squint.

It had been almost a year since he saw the last sunrise, and it was beginning to take its toll on his spirits but, as he reminded himself while getting up, they were all in the same boat.

The last mission had been a success: The supplies had been delivered with no casualties, save for some bruises and minor wounds. Nothing magic couldn’t mend.

No mission that day. He smiled wryly, remembering that days didn’t exist anymore; they still used the word because people wouldn’t accept that fact. Whichever the case, the Marshal had established the rule that they had to take the shift following a mission off. That prevented having any Glaive overworking themselves to exhaustion.

Mission or not, there were things to do at Lestallum, and building homes for the new refugees was a pressing matter. Several settlements had been overrun by daemons and their people kept arriving, while the Kingsglaive reclaimed the territory. It always broke Libertus’ heart to see their faces full of hope and relief when they finally saw Lestallum’s lights.

On his way to the refugee zone he walked by the commanding post, where Monica gave orders to that shift’s squads. It wasn’t as bad as he thought at first, when Cor Leonis found him at the ruins of Insomnia.

The Marshal was just as stern as Drautos had been, and Libertus had expected him to behead him on the spot once he finished confessing his involvement with the terrorists. Protecting Lady Lunafreya had absolved him partially, said Leonis, but from that moment on he would never be free from his duty until the Chosen King fulfilled his destiny, or either death or the Scourge claimed him.

_“Crowe died a Glaive. You can still honor her by fighting as one.”_

For some reason, Nyx’s voice came to mind at that very moment, when Cor stood before him with his blade drawn and a cold glint on his blue eyes. Death had never scared Libertus and, after waiting at the City Gates for days on end, reflecting on what he had done, it didn’t seem such a bad option.

Crowe would have punched him had he chosen death, he knew it well, so he accepted the Marshal’s offering and started looking for the lost Glaive. Many wandered the wastelands, while others had joined the Hunters. The rest were too broken, either in body or in mind to fight anymore, or to care for what happened with either the empire or Lucis. He talked to everyone that might listen and, when sunrises began to give way to sunsets with no midday in between, he took them to Lestallum. There was a renewed hope in their hearts, and they could use their powers again, thanks to the Kings of Old.

 _“Now we fight, we protect the people, and we wait,”_ Leonis told them once everything was arranged.

And so they did, only finding solace in battle.

He sidestepped a group of children playing in the street, on their way to the makeshift school they had built months before. He remembered his elders saying that hope lived in children’s laughter. It was true: adults’ dreams were fragile and shattered easily. Kids were strong.

“Libertus!”

He turned around to see Iris running towards him with a smile on her face. Sweet Iris, may the Six bless her.

“Been searching for you!” she beamed when she caught up with him. “Tonight you dine with me, remember?”

“How could I forget?” he laughed. “You remind me every time!”

“That’s because you have a bad memory,” she giggled.

At seventeen, Iris looked more like the woman she was to be than the child he met at Insomnia. She was strong and resourceful, and her energy knew no bounds. Her brother could be very proud of her.

After a long shift of hard work, Libertus was grateful for the invitation. They sat alone at the small room that was Iris’ home, not very different from the one he had for himself.

“I talked to Cor about my training,” she said offhandedly while they ate.

“Again? What excuse he made up this time?”

“None,” she smiled broadly. “He said I can start whenever I want.”

Libertus nearly choked and drank a big gulp of water to cover up for it. Something big had to happen for the Marshal to change his mind.

The quarrels between Iris and Leonis were famous among the Kingsglaive. Leonis had outright refused to even discuss the girl going through further training. Libertus could understand his superior: He had studied under Clarus’ tutelage and had known the Amicitia siblings since they were very young. The three of them were as close as family, and Leonis probably couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to Iris.

“How come?” he rasped through his cough.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But he said he couldn’t do it, so I had to find my own instructor. My brother is always out of town, and he’s not good at teaching anyway. So that leaves you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you!” she beamed. “You are the best warrior I know besides Cor and my brother so, who better than you?”

“Just… let me think about it, okay?” he said awkwardly before diverging the conversation elsewhere.

Libertus spent a good part of that night sitting in his room by the open window. He shared the Marshal’s opinion and fears on the matter. As Iris grew up, she reminded him more and more of Crowe, and now she was as eager as his companion had been about entering combat.

Many nights he had woken up with his heart racing, the image of Crowe, pale and cold inside that black bag, burned in his mind. He couldn’t let that happen to Iris.

He rubbed his tired eyes, cursing under his breath. Nyx would have probably accepted the offer right away. Again, Nyx had been Nyx, and he was Libertus, and he would be damned if he let history repeat itself.

The next working shift, his squad was to rendezvous with Aranea Highwind near the Meldacio HQ and accompany her back to Lestallum. She was accommodating, despite being more than capable of traveling alone, and regaled them with some anecdotes along the way. The younger Glaive looked at her with adoration; a few weeks had been more than enough for her to win her place among the new army and now she was a hero.

After they completed the mission, Libertus saw himself talking to her on their way to the bar.

“Something’s eating at you,” she said all of a sudden. “What is it?”

He didn’t know why, but he told her over some drinks. Not every little detail, but the gist of it.

“That’s a rotten reason,” she said bluntly, then she snorted. “Cor and you and that boy Gladiolus… what a bunch of neurotics…”

Libertus opened his mouth to protest, but Aranea was quicker and kept scolding him.

“We all have been that age,” she reminded him. “She’s strong and can hold her own in combat. Overprotect her and she’ll be bound to do something stupid for all the wrong reasons.”

Libertus felt his chest tightening and, either he was very transparent or Aranea was really good at reading people.

“You saw someone die, right?”

The question was spoken softly, yet it felt like a stab. They both had seen many people die, but when a warrior spoke about a “someone”, it always meant “someone important”. He shook his head.

“I…” he managed to say, his eyes fixed on his glass. “She died… and I wasn’t there.”

“Well,” she said after downing what remained from her drink in one gulp. “Be there next time. That’s the only thing you can do,” then she put a hand on his shoulder before walking away. “Either you train her or I’ll do it myself, but that girl’s gonna fight sooner or later.”

He spoke with the Marshal the next shift, and found out that Iris had already told him about her lessons.

“How come you changed your mind, sir?” he asked.

Leonis looked at him for a moment; it was the first time they talked in person after the Marshal returned from that mission near the Cavaugh frontier and, maybe it was a trick of the artificial light, but Libertus could swear Cor’s temples now had a silvery hue.

“Iris is not a child anymore,” he said. Then he pursed his thin lips. “We try to shield those we love, but sometimes the best protection is a sword in their hands.”

“Are you sure?”

Leonis smirked.

“She’s an Amicitia. They have it in their blood,” he grew serious then. “I can only teach her what Clarus would, but you were trained by Drautos and, traitor or not, he had a unique vision of the battlefield. In half a year she should be ready. Are you up to the task?”

The question hadn’t been asked with an implicit order: It was a petition. Libertus didn’t have to think twice.

“I will do it, sir.”

“Good,” Leonis nodded. “In half a year I will test her skills. Until then you will be relieved from your duties.”

Iris showed him during the first lesson that she was an Amicitia, and cleared away the few doubts Libertus still had. Iris was strong, and she would be stronger even, but she would always have someone by her side, be it her brother, Leonis or Libertus. She would never be alone, he would see to it, even if that was the last thing he ever did.

History wouldn’t repeat itself.


End file.
